News
Garber Announces Advisory Committee for Harvard Law School Dean Search
News
First Harvard Prize Book in Kosovo Established by Harvard Alumni
News
Ryan Murdock ’25 Remembered as Dedicated Advocate and Caring Friend
News
Harvard Faculty Appeal Temporary Suspensions From Widener Library
News
Man Who Managed Clients for High-End Cambridge Brothel Network Pleads Guilty
Off the main highway which runs through the sleepy South Carolina town of Orangeburg are the weathered buildings of the state's Colored Normal, Industrial, Agricultural, and Mechanical College. They are old buildings, belonging for the most part to generations long past. An air of decay pervades the 50 acre, unkempt campus. It is a decay bred from apathy-apathy of the State Legislature, of the board of trustees, of the 1300 or so students who know they are getting an education that is second-rate. It springs from a college president who, though obsequious to the all-white board of trustees, rules the faculty-men and women of his own race-with an iron hand.
Lost in the spell of decay, few members of the fantastically inbred faculty will fight the system. For they remember one who did. Lewis K. McMillan, exprofessor of History, was fired for writing a book, "Negro Higher Education in the State of South Carolina," which exposed the system for what it is.
Born on Farm
The son of a poor, backwoods farmer, McMillan educated himself until he was almost certainly the most distinguished member of State College's faculty (A.B. Howard, B.Div. Yale, Ph.D. University of Bonn, Germany). An expert in the history of the reconstructed South, he realized more clearly than most the pitiful lack of educational opportunities for the 45 percent of South Carolina's population who are Negro.
His book, a 296-page minutely documented work, was published at his own expense. It is a careful examination of the one public and nine private colleges for Negroes in South Carolina. The story it tells is typical of many Southern states, except that conditions in South Carolina are worse than in most.
It is a book that is essentially picayune, losing much of its possible force by giving as much emphasis to trivia such as grounds as it does to faculty. Yet for the careful reader, everything is there. It is a scathing indictment of the state, its bigoted whites, and its apathetic Negroes.
McMillan especially condemns the system under which his own institution was run. No Negro has a real voice in the administration of State College. It is governed by a six man, all-white board of trustees, drawn from business and professional men of the Orangeburg region. The board is all-powerful, but it leaves routine decisions to the college president, Benner C. Turner. When Turner was selected in 1950, the trustees asked each candidate two questions:
1) "Do you believe in, and will you support, the Southern philosophy of race and education in administering the affairs of this institution?"
2) "Are you a member of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People?"
Turner had the right answers.
Turner Summons McMillan
The McMillan episode started on Feb. 2, 1953. At a faculty meeting, the historian announced the Feb. 12 publication date of his forthcoming book. Early the following morning, Turner summoned him to his office. The president had not seen a copy of the book, and bitterly complained because he had not been able to read the manuscript.
According to McMillan, Turner said, "Now, Doctor, the policy of the administration-that is, of the president is to forbid any member of the staff to vilify the College or any sister institution in the State. If your book is of such a character, your case will be brought before the Trustee Board for action. Remember, now, Doctor McMillan, that you have a good job here at the College."
In effect, Turner placed burning the book as the minimum price for McMillan to be retained.
The professor would make no bargains.
Three months passed, and Turner said nothing more about the book. Then, in May, one of the College janitors, told McMillan that he had heard the professor had been dismissed. A cook for a local white family said she had heard a similar rumor.
The next morning, May 6, McMillan got a letter from the president: "I am instructed by the Board of Trustees to notify you that your contract of employment, which expires June 30, 1953, will not be renewed."
Neither the chairman of the History Department nor the College dean knew of McMillan's dismissal before he showed them the letter. The board of trustees would not let him appear before it to make an appeal, nor would it let him file a formal letter of complaint. "Write your letter to the president," said the secretary of the board. "If he sees fit, he will turn it over to us."
Book Draws Comment
Meanwhile, McMillan's book had made an impression. Its voice was not loud, but some heard it. Said the daily Columbia Record: "This book should be read by every South Carolinian regardless of race. It should be required reading in schools. It should be publicized from one end of the State to the other.... The facts which McMillan describes should be a source of deep shame to every resident of the Palmetto State, not so much because the conditions as he describes them exist, but because we are, for the most part, totally ignorant of them...."
Throughout last summer, McMillan sought action on his case. An appeal to the Southern Association of Colleges and Secondary Schools brought only the following answer: "...this Association does not have the time or the staff to investigate cases of individual misunderstanding between professors and administrations...."
Today, a year after his dismissal, Lewis McMillan has still been unsuccessful in his appeal. Presidents of the other Negro colleges have been warned that he is a "troublemaker," and they will not hire him. He now works with his wife in her small wholesale cosmetics business.
McMillan was fired because there is no such thing as a tenure system in the "glorified high schools" that are the average deep-South Negro college. For tenure would violate the classical Southern tradition of denying the Negro the right to question white authority. A corollary to this principle is the institution of the Publication of this book, "Negro Higher Education in the State of South Carolina," brought down the wrath of a college president and caused the firing of its author, Lewis McMillan, a professor of History. The book, a documentary study of educational opportunities in the South, was published at McMillan's own expense.
"good Negro" boss who "knows his place."
The book, cause of all the controversy, has already had some effects, however. Some of the worst of the dirt and filth it describes has been cleaned up. More important, more attention is focused upon the Negro colleges of South Carolina than over before.
Court Ends Problem
Now, finally, the Supreme Court's decision outlawing segregation will eliminate this whole problem at one stroke. It will give the Southern Negro access to the education without which he can never hope to achieve equal status. It will eliminate the despotic Negro school administrator, and it will force the passing of the untrained Negro public school teacher. And the little, privately supported Negro college will lose its raison d'etre.
But as the Court has recognized, implementation of its ruling will be difficult. The mentality that bred segregation has not yet died. For legal decisions cannot eliminate apathetic, even hostile state legislatures. And they can only slowly conquer the fear that creates men like Benner C. Turner.
Want to keep up with breaking news? Subscribe to our email newsletter.